They would not have spoken so openly before him if they entertained the slightest fear that he would ever be in a position to expose them.
"We'll find a way to make you talk to-morrow, my friend.

Starving is not pleasant." "You would not starve me!" he cried.
"No.

You will have the pleasure of starving yourself," said a thin-eyed fellow whom he afterward knew as Peter Brutus.
He was thrown back into the little room.

To his surprise and gratification, the bonds on his wrists were removed.

Afterward he was to know that there was method in this action of his gaolers: his own utter impotency was to be made more galling to him by the maddening knowledge that he possessed hands and feet and lungs--and could not use them! He found a match in his box and struck it.